


like real people

by melonbutterfly



Series: cacw fix-its [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky is Not a Thing, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Mid-Credits Scene, Civil War Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Free Agency, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, No Ableism, Protective Steve Rogers, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:51:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then Bucky speaks. "I'm going to go back into cryo."</p><p><em>That</em> jolts Steve out of that weird dazed state he's in. "<em>What?</em> Why?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	like real people

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: "what should have happened if everyone involved in making decisions about this movie weren't ableist, victim-blaming assholes"
> 
> the actual title is very subtle, i know. it was inspired by hozier's "like real people do". this too is very subtle. this whole fic is very subtle. /sarcasm
> 
> also why was the "bucky is not a thing" tag not a thing yet. why.

It's later, much later, though Steve honestly couldn't say how much – it's all a bit of a blur. Coming across T'Challa outside the Siberian facility, trying to move aching limbs into a defensive stance all the while trying not to acknowledge the rising panic, fueled by the knowledge that he doesn't have much strength left if T'Challa attacks now.

But he doesn't. He's factual, regretful without being contrite, offers them a safe place and whatever other aid they should need. He looks at Bucky like everyone should – with profound respect, with awareness that he's a victim and not a perpetrator, but without pity. That's why Steve says yes. No matter who stood before him, if they offered aid but looked at Bucky like a perpetrator, Steve wouldn't accept. They have nothing in the world in that moment, no one who can help him, nowhere to go, no resources. But they've been there before, and look at them now.

Look at them now.

Hours later, each sitting on a hospital bed while examined by doctors who tsk and shake their heads over them, nurses who make notes on what the doctors dictate, assemble tools. Steve remembers it all only in snapshots; bottles of disinfectants, gauze, a scanner that seems to be doing nothing and still somehow enables the doctors to identify internal injuries, broken bones.

Steve is fine. He'll be fine; nothing that won't heal within a few days, his body always returning to a fully functional, healthy preset like nothing happened.

Bucky, too, will be fine. He has no permanent injuries, at least, except for the arm, of course.

It takes hours. They get checked and fixed and there are even sponge baths, hospital gowns after, all without ever separating them because dazed as Steve feels, he still immediately notices when Bucky is taken from his line of sight.

"He's in the bathroom," a nurse tells him gently while the nurse who helped Bucky across the room steps out of the door Bucky vanished through and closes it behind her. It doesn't take much more than a minute for Bucky to return, but Steve still spends it trying to fight the rising panic. He can't lose Bucky again, he _can't_. Having had to choose between getting them killed and getting them arrested, where Bucky would face a significantly different treatment than Steve, had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. It tore him apart.

Bucky steps out of the room, eyes immediately finding Steve's, and it's only then that Steve can breathe again, though his heart still beats too fast for some time after.

Eventually, finally, they're left alone. They each have IV lines and gentle but firm orders to eat and rest, food on their sidetables, but Steve spends probably ten minutes, if not longer, just staring into nothing before that even registers.

And then Bucky speaks. "I'm going to go back into cryo."

 _That_ jolts Steve out of that weird dazed state he's in. " _What?_ Why?"

Expression helpless but somehow simultaneously determined, Bucky meets his eyes. "I have to, Steve. What that guy, what Zemo did? Anyone can do that to me, Steve. It's anchored in my brain and I had no idea, I have no idea what else is in there. All they need is that goddamn book or any of the copies, and ten words later I'm back to being- being _that_. I can't do that again, Steve. The people I've killed- that can't happen again. I won't let it. So the... the best thing to do is for me to go back into cryo until these doctors have found a way to fix it."

For several moments all Steve can do is stare at Bucky. He has no words, but there's one thing he knows for sure. "You don't need to be _fixed_ , Bucky. You're not _broken_. You're not a _thing_. You're a person, and they hurt you and injured you and they tore up your brain. Everything you've been made to do, it's all on them. _All of it_. And... Bucky, I'm not a doctor, but brains don't work like that. Bodies don't work like that. They don't... once they've been hurt, they can heal, but they can never go back to exactly the way they were before." Unless they're Steve's, of course, but that doesn't matter right now.

Steve slides out of his bed and crosses the two steps to Bucky's, where Bucky sits staring at him with that expression on his face – _wounded_ , is all Steve can think of, and god, he wants to tear the world apart for allowing this to happen to Bucky, to _Bucky_.

He takes Bucky's hand, squeezes it gently. "Bucky. There's nothing to be _fixed_. Your body needs to _heal_. Your brain needs to heal, needs to recover, and your mind does too, but there's nothing that needs to be _fixed_. You're not broken."

For a moment Bucky just stares at him, eyes wide and... those are tears, welling up in them, and god, the things Steve would do to undo the hurt that's been dealt to this man. What he _wouldn't_ do.

And then Bucky swallows and looks away, blinks rapidly. "That doesn't... I'm a walking time bomb, Steve. Ten words and I turn into a biddable killing machine, and nothing you say can change that. There's nothing I can do about it, Steve."

"Nothing you could do about it before, on the run, with no allies and few resources," Steve disagrees gently. "But you have me. You have the others, they all fought for you, remember? It wasn't just for me. And you have time now, all the time you need; T'Challa said it, this is an unlimited offer. You have time, and space, and resources; they have doctors, tech, the scientific knowledge to help. You're safe here and I'll be with you every step of the way. And if you want, there's... remember Wanda? She can read minds. I don't know how, I don't understand it and she doesn't either, but she's, she can help you, if that's what you want. You can work together, you and her and the doctors, to figure this out, Bucky. To figure out how to help your brain to heal. But putting you away like- like a _thing_ that's been broken, how would that help?"

The tears that have been welling up in Bucky's eyes spill out then as he blinks and sags, slumps towards Steve, and that's all the encouragement Steve needs. He lets go of Bucky's hand and puts one hand on his shoulder, careful still in case Bucky doesn't want that, but Bucky's body stays relaxed, leans further into Steve even, and that's it. Steve wraps both arms around Bucky and pulls him in, pulls him close, and he can't squeeze because Bucky's ribs are broken but god, there's nothing in the world that could make him let go. He never wants to let go of Bucky ever again.

He holds Bucky as he cries; it's quiet, the exhausted tears of someone who doesn't have the energy to hold them back anymore but at the same time doesn't have the energy to really let them out either. Steve has been there. So he holds Bucky, one arm secure around his waist and one hand between his shoulderblades, rubbing slow, gentle circles into his back. "I'm here, I'm with you," he tells Bucky again and again, hoping that the words and the sentiment both help because they're all he has to give right now.

Eventually Bucky goes still, but it takes a while for Steve to realize it's because he's fallen asleep. Once he does he blinks his own eyes clear and takes a few deep breaths. Then he gently, so gently, helps Bucky lie down, carefully cradles his head in one hand so it doesn't loll, positions it on the pillow, then pulls the blanket up and tucks Bucky in.

The two steps back to his own bed feel like a bigger distance than he's comfortable with, but at the same time it's not the end of the world. They're practically side by side and there's nothing obstructing Steve's sightline to Bucky as he lies down in his own bed, on his side, and stares at Bucky's sleeping form until his eyes fall shut.

**Author's Note:**

> because fuck that horrible mid-credits scene
> 
> also... the wanda thing. i just. am so puzzled? like, how did this not occur to ANYBODY in this WHOLE GODDAMN MOVIE? ????? i mean it's not like wanda's ability to read minds is a major plot point of the previous movie?? are they in denial about aou too??? questions over questions and no logic in sight
> 
> PS: there may be more fix its coming bc i am so not here for that "no homo" bullshit the moviemakers pulled post-catws. canon steve would raze the world for bucky fight me


End file.
